


A Little Serendipity

by ChocoPie



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Crimson Peak, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Serendipity - Freeform, Sexual Tension, Tiff, Toronto, University, film trailers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoPie/pseuds/ChocoPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filming trailers are a perpetual presence on Ellie's university campus. She amuses herself with the possibility of running into Tom Hiddleston, and it's so funny because it could never happen...right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times. For Elliott Montgomery, the girl on a rusty mountain bike maneuvering through Toronto's afternoon traffic, this day is definitely the latter.

Well, maybe comparing her predicament to the French Revolution is exaggerating a bit, but in her defense it is Friday, it is raining, and she is really, really late.

"Hey, watch it buddy!", Ellie shouts as she swerves to the left, narrowly missing the taxi that suddenly decides to pull into her bike lane. Pedaling past the vehicle, she makes a face at the taxi driver, being careful to avoid the puddles and bright orange pylons lining the rest of the street.

Orange pylons usually mean that filming trailers will be showing up pretty soon. They're always filming something or other in Toronto, and those bulky white rental units are a perpetual presence on her university campus. Just last year, she saw Patrick J. Adams taking a lunch break on the sidewalk when the 'Suits' trailers temporarily took over an entire pathway next to one of the theology buildings. Ellie thinks she handled herself pretty well that time, considering it was her very first celebrity sighting. Although, she does remember a lot of hyperventilating, frantic texting in capital letters, and high-pitched squealing - in the privacy of a public washroom stall, of course.

Passing the orange pylons, she wonders what's being filmed this time and if anyone famous will be in it. Fat chance Tom Hiddleston is involved, but a girl can dream. Chickening out of meeting him at TIFF in September was possibly the stupidest decision she'd made since agreeing to watch 'Twilight' on opening night. Then again, if her reaction to spotting Patrick J. Adams was any indication (and she wasn't even a fan), avoiding physical proximity to Thomas William Hiddleston might have been a wise choice after all.

It's not that she was afraid of freaking out - Tom's a good sport about that kind of stuff. No, it was a selfish, cowardly decision made to preserve her own sanity. Her reasoning was that the fantastical scenarios she dreams up in her head are real possibilities, as far fetched as they may be, and meeting the literal man of her dreams would most definitely make them all impossibilities. It's like, two roads diverged in a yellow wood and if you never chose a path, there would still be two paths to choose from, whereas making one choice means forsaking the other forever. Does that make sense? Well, it did in her mind.

These days, what seemed like sound reasoning at the time doesn't make much sense anymore. She wonders why past-Ellie was such an idiot, especially since that cowardly decision completely went against her philosophy of "carpe the fucking diem", which also happens to be what she admires about Tom. His "feel the fear and do it anyway" attitude towards life has touched countless lives, including Ellie's. It was what ultimately pushed her to apply for grad school in London, despite knowing her slim chance of getting in, not to mention the astronomical tuition fees she'd be paying as an overseas student.

There are so many things she wants to ask Tom, mostly questions that have nothing to do with film, like his thoughts on the ethics of international volunteering or the implications of extraterrestrial life. Interviewers never ask these important questions. Too bad Ellie will never get to ask any of it. She might have even missed her only chance of ever seeing him up close.

Honestly! Regret is such a bitch. It shows up when you are having the crappiest day, sinks to the pit of your stomach, and sits there like it owns the damn place. Luckily, Ellie couldn't wallow in self-pity for much longer because she's biking in a car lane and several annoyed honks refocus her attention back to the task at hand, which is trying not to have her brains splattered on the wet pavement. A few curious pedestrians startled by the commotion turn their heads just in time to catch the sight of a wet blue backpack disappearing into the chilly November rain. To them, the girl on her rusty mountain bike probably looked like any other university student scrambling to class or rushing to hand in an assignment just before the deadline.

Aaaand they would be correct. In fact, Ellie's on her way to drop off the last essay of the semester. The prof said he'd be in till 5pm, and it's currently 4:58. Ellie, as per usual, is just baaaarely going to make it, if she does at all. At 5:04pm, the prof is in the midst of locking up when Ellie bursts through the door at the end of the hall. He knows exactly why she's running towards him, and he's not impressed.

"You're lucky I stayed late to answer questions, young lady", tuts the prof. He looks displeased, but accepts her damp wad of paper nevertheless and stuffs it among the other essays in his briefcase. Ellie does her best to look sheepish, even though she's mentally giving herself a big pat on the back.

Glaring at her over his spectacles, the prof asks, "And what is your name?" He had neglected to glance at the assignment before filing it away, but now he thinks he should probably find out her name just in case he's not feeling so generous later and decides to slap on a late penalty.

Fortunately, Ellie realizes this too.

Her lips, red from strenuous pedaling, curls into a sly grin like that smug cat from Alice in Wonderland. She shakes her head a little, and replies in the sweetest, most respectful voice, "You have a great weekend, sir! Don't grade too many essays!", before practically skipping out the exit. Defeated, the prof sighs and halfheartedly wishes her a great weekend too.

Outside, the night air is crisp and cold. Rain continues to drizzle from a few dark clouds, but to the girl bounding down the street, the world feels warmer and brighter than it's been for a long while.

"Say my name! Say my name!", Ellie shouts into the darkness, reminiscent of Tom Hiddleston's little stint at Comic Con earlier that year.

"El-li-ott! El-li-ott! El-li-ott!", she chants to herself while laughing out loud.

Turning onto the street of the taxi incident earlier, she's a little surprised to see that the orange pylons are already replaced by a row of filming trailers. Even though she knows those trailers belong to a world far removed from her current reality, she still takes pleasure in imagining a run-in with some random celebrity. It's something she's often thought about since TIFF.

The sight of filming trailers reminds her that 'Crimson Peak' starts shooting in February, which means Tom Hiddleston will be back in Toronto. This prospect puts a little smile on Ellie's face. Who knows? Maybe she'll run into him and get to bombard him with questions after all. Ellie doesn't believe in luck or fate, but she's grateful that life has put her in some pretty serendipitous situations. For one, she managed to get her grubby hands on TIFF tickets for 'Only Lovers Left Alive' and she wasn't even that keen on meeting Tom at the time.

Truth be told, the chances of any of her wildly imaginative scenarios playing out in real life are next to zero. Nada. Ziltch. Ellie knows this. But, it's still fun to imagine.

Ellie's giggles fill the night air as she muses on her hypothetical meeting with Tom.

It's so funny, she thinks, because it could actually never happen....right?


	2. Chapter 2

Exam season came and went in a flurry of snow, ice rain, and more snow. Just when Ellie thought she could finally sleep in, maybe even celebrate Christmas by watching a Hiddleston Movie Marathon from her warm, comforting bed, the stupid Polar Vortex had to go and knock out the power. That meant no lights, no heating, and no wifi. It might as well have been a death sentence since she kept in touch with most of her friends through the internet, and during a supposedly festive time of the year when you should be spending it with the people you love most, Skyping and emailing friends, however far away, was the only thing that made up for Ellie's lack of family nearby. Her mom was off somewhere in the Caribbean with her flavour of the month and her dad, well, she's barely spoken to him in years, especially since his new wife gave birth to the twins.

Ellie only got through the holidays by imagining that Tom was enjoying himself with his family, because she knew it was silly to think that his holidays would be crap too just because his parents were also divorced. He was most likely busy with 'Coriolanus', and possibly even preparing for 'Crimson Peak'. Either way, he was definitely surrounded by friends, or at least by people who took an interest in his well-being. 

And so the Christmas of 2013, and even New Year's, turned out to be a most pathetic affair for Elliott Montgomery. It wasn't the first time she'd spent the holidays alone, and she'd never minded it all that much, but it was the first time she felt...lonely. Initially, Ellie didn't really know what to do with this new found loneliness - it wasn't something she'd been acquainted with since her parent's divorce. After adjusting to it for a few days, she finally accepted that maybe this discomfort was the price she had to pay for inviting Tom's unrelenting optimism into her life. Maybe when you feel the highs, you also have to feel the lows. And maybe, just maybe, this time it'll be worth the risk.

* * *

It's now the second week of February and school is in full swing. On her way home, Ellie notes there are still no filming trailers on campus. After all, who in their right mind would film on location during the middle of a Canadian winter unless absolutely necessary? Nevertheless, she secretly hopes that 'Crimson Peak' might have to. Tom once said he enjoys the winter, didn't he? Well then, he'll love Toronto.

It's just a shame that he won't have a proper break after finishing the extended week of Coriolanus at the Donmar Warehouse. The play's enormous success gave Ellie a sense of vicarious pride, especially knowing that its extended run is mainly a testament to Tom's talents as an actor and not just to his popularity. The last show should be next week, not that it matters for Ellie since she's already missed the live January 30th broadcast and tickets for the February rerun are now all sold out. 

Just when Ellie decides to refocus her thoughts on something a little more optimistic, her jacket pocket buzzes, signaling a new text. She glances down at her phone and sees that it's from Rae, a friend she made at TIFF. Their acquaintance is actually a funny tale.

Ellie and Rae only met because during the 'Only Lovers Left Alive' Q&A, Rae had the audacity to ask Tom, "Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?", and Ellie posted a stupid rant on tumblr complaining about someone asking such a cheesy question, which Rae found... Things could have ended very badly had Rae not been so gracious about it. It made Ellie realize that she was really just mad at herself for not being brave enough to ask anything herself, and apologized to Rae profusely. 

It's a good thing they kept in touch after that because it turns out Rae has the best luck in the world. Not only did she run into Tom  _twice_  during TIFF, it now seems that she's scored two tickets to see the February rerun of 'Coriolanus' and is offering Ellie the second ticket!

Ellie looks up from her phone and quickly glances around before letting out a little squeal. Despite the cold, she pulls off her mitten and rings Rae immediately.

"How? How did you do it? Who did you have to kill?" 

Rae only laughs and puts on an air of mystery. " _If I told you, I'd have to kill_ you  _too. Just tell me, are you in or not?"_

Ha! As if that's even a question. 

"It's the 22nd, ya? That's the end of my reading week. I should be done studying by then."

_"Excellent. You and me, it's a date!"_

"Hold on," Ellie suddenly pauses, "February 22nd. Tom will be in Toronto by then..."

 _"I know! That's what makes it more exciting!"_  Rae explains impatiently. 

"I don't know..." Ellie muses out loud, "how weird would it be if we ran into him right after seeing him on screen?!"

_"Well, I don't want to jinx anything but with my luck, we really just might."_

* * *

Usually when February reading break rolls around, Ellie wishes it'd last forever. This year, however, Saturday just can't come soon enough. It doesn't help that she may have been a little overeager, because it's only Wednesday and she has no more school work left to do. Now the question is how to sanely and productively get through the next three days. She's already done all the laundry, cleaned the floors, twice, and even washed the balcony windows _in the middle of winter_.

For the first time in months, she can see the lake crystal clear. She wishes she'd cleaned the windows sooner - the spectacular view is one of the reasons why harbourfront property is so bloody expensive in the first place. Ellie could never afford the rent if it wasn't for her volunteering at a retirement home and inadvertently falling into the elderly landlady's good graces after rescuing her cat from a pack of raccoons. In retrospect, the scratches and tetanus shot all paid off. Even agreeing to look after the penthouse suite was worth the trouble since it meant she would be practically living rent free.

Most of the time she didn't even have to do anything except collect the monthly rent. It's just causing some inconvenience this week since the new tenants can't seem to make up their goddamn mind on the move in date. She heard from Susan, the housing agent (and also a good, if somewhat flaky, friend), that they are a very nice gay couple who clearly have an excellent relationship because only one of them came to see the place, called his partner immediately and paid up front right then and there.

Ellie's basically been on standby mode since Monday, waiting for Susan to confirm when they'd be moving in. She desperately hopes it won't be Saturday, or she might just cry if she misses the chance to see 'Coriolanus', again. Every time this prospect starts to nag at her, Ellie manages to stay calm by reminding herself that everything in life - the 'Coriolanus' tickets, this apartment - are all just free sprinkles, additional bonuses. In other words, if you don't take things for granted and appreciate what you have, you will be much happier. It's just one of the many pieces of advice she's taken from the philosopher T.W. Hiddleston over the past year, and truly, it's made a world of difference. Besides, the studio where they'll be filming 'Crimson Peak 'is literally down the street from where she lives, which means Tom will also be literally right down the street. This thought perks her up somewhat, even though she knows the odds of accidentally running into him are probably one in a million. Maybe more. 

Slowly but surely, the day draws to an end. Brilliant reds of the setting sun fade into a rich indigo night sky and the shoreline lights blink to life. At half past eleven, Ellie decides she's going to bed because the tenants are definitely not coming. Just as she's about to nod off into a pleasant dream about an endless table of pudding, a loud buzzing pulls her back to reality. Opening one eye, Ellie groggily peers at her phone and sighs when she sees Susan's name roll across the screen. 

"Su, I was jus-"

_"Hi Ellie, Ellie! Ellieeeeeee! Listen. Listennn."_

"Jesus. Su, are you drunk? Where are you? Speak up! I can barely hear you over that music." 

Ellie has never liked house music, but in her current half awake state, she's sure it's now the one thing she hates the most in the entire world - even more than those websites that automatically play background music as soon as you open them. Obnoxious beats continue to pound through her phone's earpiece, making her increasingly fractious. She's in no mood to deal with anyone right now, let alone a drunk Susan. 

"Susan. Can this wait till tomorrow? I rea-"

_"Noooo Ellieeee! The tenants. I just got a call. Just now. They'll be there in 10, ok? Like, just count to 10. Just close your eyes and count."_

"What? No. No no no no. Susan! You can't just give me 10 minutes notice and expect me to drop everything I'm doing!". 

Well, sleeping counts as an activity. 

 _"Sorryyyyyy Ellieeee. Oooh wait! Wait! Actually I think they_ called _me 10 minutes ago..."_

"SUSAN MERIAL DWIGHT! Did you _wait_ 10 minutes to call me when they said they'd _be_ here in 10 minutes?!" _  
_

Ellie didn't mean to sound so angry, but it doesn't matter now. Susan was no use after that; she started crying hysterically, so Ellie had to hang up. 

This is turning out to be a splendid night.  

Scrambling out of bed, Ellie throws on her bathrobe, grabs a packet of mints, her keys, and heads out the door. She knows she looks like shit at the moment. Too bad she's still extremely irritated, and right now, making a good first impression is the last thing on her mind. If these new tenants decide to show up at a ridiculous hour on such short notice, well, like it or not, this is the best version of Ellie they're going to get. 

Except for the security guard sneaking a nap in the corner, the lobby is empty when Ellie steps off the elevator. Having had some time to calm herself on the way down (the mints helped), Ellie concludes that these new tenants might actually be really decent people who deserve the benefit of the doubt. She checks her reflection one last time in the hallway mirror, making sure to put on a little smile, if not for the tenants then for herself, and walks over to the sofa area to await the arrival of her new neighbours. 

Luckily, she doesn't have to wait long because the lobby door opens before Ellie has a chance to sit down. A smartly dressed gentleman, with his back turned towards her, is struggling with two large suitcases. From the looks of it, this must be one of the new tenants. She figures she'd have to introduce herself sooner or later, so she might as well give the poor guy a hand while she's at it. 

"Hi!" she calls out to him, "Are you moving into the penthouse suite? Need some help?"

"Yes! Yes we are!" he responds without looking back at her, "Thank you. I would really appreciate that!" 

Ooo, he's British. 

After some strategic maneuvering, they finally manage to get the luggage through the door. It wasn't until then that Ellie finally gets a good look at his face. He seems very familiar.

Then, it suddenly hits her.

"Luke? Luke Windsor?" Ellie's at a loss for words. What the hell is going on?! 

Luke's tired eyes light up. "Yes! Hello! You must be...Ellie Montgomery! Susan kept mentioning you. It's so nice to finally put a face to the name. Pleasure, pleasure." He greets her with a firm handshake.

This is a joke, right? Is this actually happening? Luke Windsor, Tom Hiddleston's publicist, is the new tenant? 

"We're very sorry to disturb you so late and on such short notice. We only just figured out the arrangements..." Luke rambles on about hotel delays, or something about the airport, but Ellie's brain doesn't register a single word. 

"Hold one a minute..." Ellie slowly raising a hand. She's still dazed but has somehow recovered her speech.

"Who are you sharing the suite with? Where's your partner?"

"Partner? Oh, no, we're not sharing the suite. No..haha..It's just for...he's just getting the rest of his things..." Luke trails off while squinting at a figure beyond the glass door who also seems to have several luggage in tow. 

If Luke Windsor is here and he's not sharing the suite with his "partner", then it can only mean... 

"Ah! Good. He's here," Luke says, turning to Ellie and sounding very pleased. "The suite is for him," he adds, nodding towards the figure while holding open the lobby door. 

To Ellie, the figure Luke referred to as "him" really needs no introduction. She'd know that gait and those cheekbones anywhere. But of course, "he" didn't know that.

"Hello," she hears the handsome stranger say in a familiar British accent as he holds out his hand and locks his baby blue eyes onto her brown ones. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Tom Hiddleston."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for making it this far. I know the story's been a bit slow, but it'll pick up in the next chapter. To be honest, I still can't really believe I posted this story. I've based an obscene amount of it on my real life because I have no imagination (hey, they say write about what you know, right?)...and I hope that doesn't make anyone too uncomfortable. Unfortunately, inspiration comes in bits and pieces, which is partially the reason it took me so long to update this friggin SECOND chapter. Anywhoodles, I will endeavour to update sooner for the next one. 
> 
> P.S. Tom is coming to Toronto in Feb, so the next update DEFINITELY shouldn't take as long....C:


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to S.J.K. for your ceaseless kindness and support :)

"In this world, there are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it."

What a cynical, insightful observer of the human condition he was, that Oscar. And what a sad thing it is that his cynicism still holds a kernel of truth.

That bastard.

Lying awake in the darkness, Ellie frowns as she mulls over this thought, wondering how to proceed with her relatively normal life after receiving that surprise midnight visit just five hours ago. She wasn't supposed to meet him. At least not like this. God knows she's played out a hundred different scenarios of meeting him in her head, but they all involved her at least resembling a presentable human being and not a bleary eyed mess cloaked in the world's most unflattering bathrobe. 

Ideally, it would have been on a clear spring evening when she was passing by a row of trailers on campus during her daily run. She'd stop under the streetlamp at a corner to retie her shoe and Tom would quite literally run into her on his way back to his trailer. He'd apologize, notice her Bee Gees t-shirt, and then it'd all play out like a romantic comedy from there. 

They'd live happily ever after. The end. 

Except life doesn't give a shit about what you want. And everyone knows that happy endings are just stories that haven't finished.

Ellie didn't exactly get what she wanted, but then again, she didn't _not_ get it either... Thinking back on Oscar Wilde's words makes her feel uneasy. She tells herself that it's just nerves. Or perhaps she just needs to get over the residual shock of unexpectedly meeting Tom Hiddleston while having bed head and terrible dental hygiene. Even better, perhaps it was all just a sweet nightmare and none of it had actually happened, and Tom isn't currently muddling about in the apartment above her head.

Of course he isn't.

He's sleeping.

Ellie adjusts her pillow, takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly through her nose. She should really get some sleep if she doesn't want to look like a zombie today, especially since she might see Kyle, that asswipe of an ex-boyfriend (if you can even call him that), during her afternoon shift at work. Usually the thought of seeing his face makes Ellie want to throw up a little in her mouth. But not today. Nothing, absolutely  _nothing,_ is going to bring her down from the high she's on now...unless it's her own self-doubt. 

Closing her eyes, but remaining very much awake, Ellie replays the events of earlier that morning in her mind for the umpteenth time. 

The first detail she recalls is the warmth of Tom's hand as he introduced himself. No one could have warm hands after being outside in this weather, and yet, he did. Ellie couldn't help but think that it was some cheesy metaphor for the warmth of his personality in this frigid world filled with uncaring people. Even as she thought it, the rational part of her brain was snorting with derision.

The handshake seemed to last forever and then in an instant, it was over. Ellie offered to help with the luggage but Tom insisted she must not lift a finger, all the while apologizing for dragging her out of bed at such an ungodly hour. She assured him it was fine and jokingly added that she' had only been dreaming about pudding anyway, which elicited an "ehehehe" from Tom. 

"Not chocolate pudding, I hope," Tom glanced at her guilty.

"Nah, not a big fan of chocolate," Ellie replied, "It was cheesecake. New York, my favourite." 

After that, there were no awkward silences, as she had feared. It might have been her years of customer service training or maybe because Tom was such a good conversationalist, but either way, Ellie transformed from a stuttering, bleary eyed mess into a social Wonder Woman, complete with an ear-splitting smile and the amazing ability to make small talk.  

She asked all the generic questions, like whether he was in Toronto for business or pleasure, talked about the neighbourhood, the building amenities (the gym was on the tenth floor), and added a few token remarks about the weather. In other words, Ellie was on autopilot. It wasn't a choice; she didn't want to be on autopilot - autopilot Ellie was nice, cheery, but forgettable. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, she also happened to perform the best under stress, and  _boy,_ was this a stressful situation. 

It didn't help that Tom was such an intent listener. His blue eyes were fixed on her the entire time she babbled. And he smelled good, so good, like the scent of fresh laundry or a steamy French roast, or both. Either way, it was light and clean, not at all how she imagined one would smell after a long day of travelling. In the elevator ride up to the penthouse, the close proximity to Tom made it difficult for Ellie to think coherently, even though her mouth somehow continued to move. It was like being drunk. She tried to maintain eye contact, tried to convince herself that it was a game and the first one to look away would lose.

Well, if it was, she lost - big time. As Ellie's mouth kept moving, her gaze slowly drifted downward, first to his grey linen scarf, then to his puffy coat sleeves. That jacket was deceptive, she thought, because she knew his Coriolanus muscles were hiding under there - muscles she'd get to see on screen in less than three days. She suddenly got a silly urge to poke at his arms. Her hand even made it across the tiny space between them before she realized what she was doing. Luckily, autopilot Ellie thought quick on her feet. She brushed at the material of his jacket and looked back up to meet his eyes before casually saying, "Lint". Tom beamed at her and murmured, "Thanks", in a way that made her weak at the knees.

Autopilot Ellie impressed even Ellie herself. She managed to steer clear of any topics that let on the fact she knew who he was, or that she even recognized him. Her questions were open-ended enough for Tom to keep answers vague, which he did. It seemed he wasn't too keen on elaborating on the reason for his stay in Toronto. And Ellie didn't blame him. What with the recent fan incidents during 'Coriolanus', it's no wonder he was being more cautious in his private life. He does, however, mention that he'd be "working on a production down the road" and that it was "very serendipitous to have found this place so close by."

It took all the will power Ellie had left to not burst out laughing at the irony of her life. 

She felt disingenuous for not telling Tom about her being a fan. But in her defense, it was well past midnight and she was  _not_ ready to open that can of worms in a cramped elevator under such unflattering fluorescent lights. It needed to wait for the right moment, maybe forever. Yes, forever would be good. Never tell him that she followed his work on tumblr, or that she'd fantasized about running into him outside his trailer when he filmed on her campus and how their brief interaction would either make him fall madly in love with her or end up forging an unlikely friendship that would endure for decades despite their age difference and vastly dissimilar lives.

Truthfully, she didn't even want the fairy tale romance all that much. It's not like Tom could _actually_ fall in love with her in real life. What a preposterous idea, even for a dreamer. No, Ellie would much rather get to know him like a regular person, not that it mattered now. All these imaginary scenarios - however improbable - had become impossibilities. It was what Ellie had feared all along. The universe had chosen a road in that yellow wood for her and only time will tell if it was the road less traveled by. 

Upon arriving at the penthouse suite, Ellie gave them a quick tour of the place, making sure to warn them about the temperamental kitchen faucet. By this point, Tom's eyelids were drooping and he seemed less and less focused. His responses were slower, smiles less bright, and they served as a somber reminder to Ellie that this whirlwind midnight visit was drawing to a close. Luke, who hadn't spoken the entire way up, suddenly switched on his publicist persona. He seemed eager to get her out of the apartment, no doubt trying to have Tom settled in as soon as possible, and maybe even get some sleep before sunrise. 

Ellie wasn't about to overstay her welcome. She took her exit gracefully, or as graceful as one could be in an oversized bathrobe and panda slippers, and padded down the stairs back to her apartment one floor below.

* * *

It's now 6:03am, the sun wouldn't be up for another hour. To think all of that happened just over five hours ago makes Ellie's head reel. She still hasn't decided if Oscar Wilde's words might ring true for her, or if she should just take a page out of Loki's handbook and call "Bullshit. I do what I want!" The latter seems much more appealing and much more in line with Ellie's carpe diem philosophy, even if that attitude has gotten her into plenty of embarrassing situations before. Most of them made for interesting stories at dinners with friends, but that's because the opinions of the people involved didn't matter to Ellie the way Tom's did. 

Ellie tosses and turns for another 10 minutes before deciding that a morning run might help clear her head. For the past few months, the weather has confined her running to the gym treadmills. But today, what she needs is a stark reminder that she's alive - that today is the first day of the rest of her life - and what better for that than the crisp winter air stinging her lungs? A few minutes later, Ellie reluctantly pulls off her warm Doctor Who themed comforter to scavenge for workout gear in the laundry basket. 

Running really does the trick. Don't misunderstand, Ellie  _loathes_ running; she hates it with as much passion as she has for cheesecake. It's simply the easiest way for her to stay fit. This morning, however, she welcomes it with open arms. All the way down the dock, Ellie doesn't even think about Tom Hiddleston once - not about his infectious "ehehehe" laugh, or his beefy Coriolanus muscles, or his stupid cheekbones, or how that figure by the streetlamp looks oddly like him....

Oh bloody  _fucking_ hell. 

There's no escape from this man. A few paces away, Tom stands in sweat pants and a grey hoodie, like he'd just walked off of the ELLE photoshoot video from a few weeks ago. 

As Ellie gets closer, she sees that Tom is using the streetlamp for support while doing some weird leg stretches. Her internal struggle with whether to say 'hi' or run past him ends abruptly when he looks up and catches her eye. His face lights up immediately. 

"You're up early," he grins at her. 

"I can say the same to you. Couldn't sleep?"

He nodded. "Jet lag. I find it's easier to reset my circadian rhythms with a morning run."

"You know, cortisol levels are highest between 5 and 9am. Strenuous exercise may not be the best idea so early." 

"And yet here you are," his grin now even wider.

Her inner science nerd is being overeager again, but luckily Tom seems to appreciate it. 

In that moment, Ellie feels like a switch has been turned off. No more autopilot mode, no more PC small talk. She decides that she's going to be herself around Tom, and he can take it or leave it. This thought gives her a new found audacity.

"You done with those weird leg stretches?" Ellie asks, tilting her chin up ever so slightly. 

Tom cocks an eyebrow at her, obviously amused by her sudden shift in tone. He pauses, mimicking her head tilt and trying to look serious by pursing his lips together.

"Yes, yes I am done with my 'weird leg stretches'. Did you have something in mind...?"

Without hesitation, Ellie pronounces evenly, "I challenge you to a race back to building. Loser buys breakfast," and sprints off without waiting for his answer. Tom's surprised laughter rings in the cold air. Not one to back down from a challenge, he quickly follows suit. 

Of course, it was never truly a competition. When Ellie finally reaches the pathway connecting the docks to her building, Tom is leaning against a railing and looking out onto the lake. Dawn's first light is just barely peeking over the horizon, making it seem as if the lake is being illuminated from within. He turns back to her, smiling silently and taunting her with his blue eyes that dance from green to hazel in the morning light. Ellie shakes her head, defeated but happy, and joins him at the railing. Neither of them says a word; words are superfluous in this moment of mutual understanding. 

The seconds seem to stretch for hours, until a stomach growl finally breaks the spell. Tom looks over at Ellie, whose quivering lips are trying their best to suppress a giggle. 

"Breakfast?" she finally manages to say. 

"Umm I don't know," he teases, "Not sure if I'm that hungry." 

Ellie punches him in the arm playfully as she turns to head back to the building. Suddenly, she stops in her tracks, her smile fading. She remembers her decision from earlier, the decision to be herself with Tom. That means she has to tell him about her being a fan. She has to tell him now before things go any further. 

"Tom," she says, slowly turning back toward him, "I need to tell you something." 

In Tom's experience, those words are rarely followed by anything good, but he senses that whatever it is, it must be important to the girl standing in front of him - a girl he'd barely just met but has taken an instant liking to - so he stays silent and waits for her to continue. 

"Look, I'm not going to keep pretending I don't know who you are."

She's done it. No going back now. 

"I know you are Tom Hiddleston - I mean ya, I know your name is Tom Hiddleston. I just mean...I'm a fan. I know who you are and I'm a fan of your work. There."

Ellie pauses to gauge Tom's reaction. His face seems pensive, which isn't the worst she expected, so she takes that as a cue to keep going. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied and I can totally understand if you'd prefer to deal with Susan about the apartment from now on but I really didn't mean to deceive you. It's just that you arrived so suddenly and I'd thought about meeting you for so long and then last night -" 

"It's ok."

Did she hear correctly? 

"....wait..what?"

"Ellie, it's ok." 

This isn't the reaction she anticipated. Actually, she doesn't know what she anticipated, but this was definitely not it.

"What do you mean by 'it's ok'!?" Ellie's upset now and she couldn't for the life of her understand why. "So you're just gonna pretend you're fine with it and then avoid me for the rest of your stay? Is that your plan? Some kind of polite British aversion tactic? Because I don't pick up on passive aggressiveness very well so I _will_  try to be your friend because I like you as a person and -"

"Ellie, if you are really a fan of mine, then I think you know that I tell it straight." Tom's voice is low but soft, and that raspy quality left over from playing Coriolanus added an extra layer of gravitas. "I've been in the business long enough to know when to spare someone's feelings and when to say it as it is. We've only just met, Ellie, we don't know each other well enough for me to spare yours if I really had a problem with what you've just admitted." 

He waited for the words to sink in before continuing.

"I'm not upset or disappointment, truly. I think it takes a lot of courage to admit something like that and I appreciate your honesty."

A few more minutes drag on in silence. By now, the morning sun had risen well above the horizon. Ellie squints at Tom through the sunlight, half protecting her retinas, half incredulous. 

"Sooo.....we're good...?"

"Yes, we're good."

Ellie finally let's out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and gives him a nervous smile. Tom removes his hands from his pockets and opens his arms. "I don't think you really believe me, Ellie. Should I prove to you my sincerity with a hug? C'mon, let's hug it out. C'mon." he beckons her.

"I'm not going to hug you," she replies with a nose scrunch. 

"Why not?"

"You're all sweaty and you probably smell bad." 

Tom, taken aback by her forwardness, throws his head back in laughter. This girl's just full of surprises. She's a challenge, a breath of fresh air. He hasn't met anyone like her in long time, and she makes him want to step up his game. All the way back to the building, they take jabs at each other, bickering like old friends. Tom holds the lobby door open for her, and as she walks past him, he couldn't help but make one last remark.

"So, you like me as a person, huh?"

Ellie rolls her eyes. Good God, this man is such a tease. 

"Yes, Tom, I think you are a wonderful human being and I'd be honoured if you'd let me buy you breakfast," she deadpans.

"Actually," Tom's face falls a bit, "I might have to take a rain cheque on that, if that's ok. It's my first day on set today and I want to go over the script again before lunch." 

He looks genuinely sorry and Ellie can't bear to see him making those sad puppy eyes. She assures him that she has stuff to do anyway, so he's not really bailing on her at all. Secretly, she's actually relieved that she now has time to digest everything that's happened in the past eight hours. It'll be a good ego boost for her in case she runs into Kyle at work that afternoon. 

The elevator announces their arrival at Ellie's floor with a loud 'ding'. She holds out her hand for a fist bump and Tom obliges, his face a mixture of amusement and intrigue. When Ellie finally steps into her apartment, the reality of it all slowly sets in.

"I just gave Tom Hiddleston - _Tom Hiddleston -_ a fist bump,"  Ellie says to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MY LIFE!!!!"

Did their relationship still feel precarious to her? Sure, but she's also opening up to the possibility that this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Oscar and his cynicism can go step on a lego for all she cared, because this is better than any scenario she'd ever wanted and it's sweeter than anything she'd ever thought possible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arghhh not sure if I'm satisfied with this chapter...but it is what it is. 
> 
> I know it seems like Ellie's given up on romance, but guess who hasn't? The lady typing up her story, that's who! *points at self :D* *tap dances* *spirit fingers* 
> 
> And thank you for reading alllll the way down to this note at the bottom. See you soon ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Ellie stays still in her seat as the last group of people trickle out of the theater, giggling and gushing to each other about the live stream of Tom's incredible Coriolanus performance they just witnessed. Before tonight, Ellie had only ever been to a handful of stage productions, one of which happened to be a horrendous modern adaption of 'Romeo and Juliet'. That was about as much Shakespeare as she'd seen and it didn't exactly make her want to see more. Truth be told, if Tom hadn't been the one playing Coriolanus, she wouldn't have thought about coming tonight at all. But it is Tom and she did come, and she's so glad she did because it was without a doubt one of the most captivating performances, live or on film, Ellie's witnessed to date. The entire cast was superb and they made it so easy to get lost in the moment of it all - not once did she see the brooding vampire musician from Only Lovers Left Alive in Coriolanus, or Mycroft Holmes in Menenius. Incredible didn't even begin to describe this experience, but Ellie has yet to recover her faculties to come up with a better adjective, so she's settling for incredible.

"Earth to Ellieeee. Hellooooo, anyone in there?"

At the sound of Rae's voice, Ellie shakes out of her daze and remembers that the show is now over. Already standing at the doors, Rae waves her arms dramatically in Ellie's direction.

"Did you like it that much?" she asks when Ellie finally makes her way down the steep staircase.

"Did you not?" Ellie replies, marveling at the impossibility that anyone leaving their seat after that last scene could have anything but very strong feelings about the show - the best kind of strong feelings.

"Uhhhh I liked it...I liked Tom." Rae hesitates. "He was brilliant, but plays aren't really my thing. And Shakespeare, I mean, I just don't get it, you know? To Tom's credit, I actually sorta understood the play because he was just so good, but other than that, it wasn't my cup of tea."

Rae looks over at Ellie, who's staring into the distance and nodding vaguely.

"Oh god, Ellie, you're judging me aren't you. I can tell, you think I'm a philistine."

The slight panic in Rae's voice comes as a surprise because she doesn't seem like the type of person who particularly cares about what other people think of her. She'd asked Tom if he fell from heaven in front of hundreds of people, for goodness’s sake, what’s a little judgement of her literary preferences to someone who lived so fearlessly in the moment? Unless, Ellie reasoned, Rae cared because she really saw Ellie as a friend, and no longer as the bitter blogger who sat amongst the hundreds of strangers in the audience that night - strangers whose opinions didn’t matter. This realization brings a smile to Ellie’s face and a warm fuzzy feeling to her stomach. Honestly, Shakespeare isn’t Ellie’s cup of tea either, but denying that outright might not be very convincing at this point.

So instead, she says, “I don’t like Crime and Punishment,” very matter of factly, “or anything Henrik Ibsen. But I really enjoyed The DaVinci Code and I like watching movie adaptions of books. Avant-garde art as a whole makes no sense to me. Also, I’d have brunch with my Dad and his new wife _with_ their twins rather than listen to Schoenberg.” Ellie’s really getting into it by now, but pausing to catch her breath, she sees Rae standing with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Shall I go on?” Ellie asks innocently.

“Nope.” Rae responds.

"You get what I'm saying though, right?"

"I get it."

And that was that.

As they got closer to the subway station, Rae brings up a subject Ellie's been trying to avoid all evening.

“You know, Tom's in Toronto now. He probably already started shooting 'Crimson Peak'. Wanna try our luck?" Rae wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Ellie's heart skips a beat at the thought of running into Tom. She ponders for a moment whether or not to tell Rae about her new upstairs neighbour, before deciding that it's probably not a good idea - respecting Tom's privacy and all. So finally, she says, "Nah I think I'm good. He's probably really busy. Besides, where would we even go look for him anyway?" Ellie, of course, knows the answer to that. She knows damn well. But for now, she has to keep it to herself.

“Spoil sport.” Rae snorts, and changes the subject.

Another two blocks later, they reach the subway station and part ways, but not before agreeing to meet up again soon.

* * *

Contrary to what one might believe, living in the same building as Tom doesn't actually provide an abundance of opportunities to run into him, as Ellie initially feared. Initially hoped? No, definitely feared. Feared, because seeing him too much might condition her to think it's normal - which it isn't - and thus result in devastating effects on her emotional health after he leaves.

Over the last month, Ellie’s only run into Tom maybe three or four times. Each time was a brief but unique and colourful encounter. Her thoughtful disagreements and his unwillingness to concede always brought an unpredictable element to their conversations, which could begin with Solon’s democratic reforms of Athens and end up in Creationism’s arguments for intelligent design. Regardless of the topic, their conversations were always full of laughter. And it was easy, so _easy_ to talk to him, about anything. He may not know of her family circumstances or her age, and she never asks about his political leanings or whether he believed in a god – things never got that personal and they’re not quite there yet – but they always had something to talk about and there was never a dull moment to be had. They were just two people, somewhere between friendly neighbours and actual friends, getting to know more about each other without really meaning to.

Once, Tom was going to lunch and offered to walk with her for a bit as she headed to work. The entire time, they bonded over their mutual love of trying new foods, which Tom admitted wasn’t very British of him.

“Then you _must_ try cream cheese on bagel with brie and ketchup chips.” Ellie proclaimed, “or barbecue chips if you’ve got those”, to which Tom made a disbelieving face. “Don’t mock me with your perfect nose, Hiddleston. I’ll have you know it’s an original recipe and it’s delicious. I make it as a midnight snack when I’m studying. Or if I can’t sleep.”

“Your culinary skills astound me, Montgomery. Please teach me your ways. ” he said in a perfectly sincere voice.

Ellie smiled and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, buddy. I’ll even make you one if you bring your own bagels. That's how good of a neighbour I am.” The word she really wanted to use was “friend”, but she didn’t know if Tom felt that way.

“I can see the headlines now,” he said, suddenly adopting a rough mid-Western American accent and gesturing wildly to an invisible audience, “the world-famous Montgomery Sandwich. Adoringly referred to as the ‘Monty’, this tasty sensation is sweeping the land, a staple in the diet of college students everywhere!” he finished with a nod of finality in Ellie’s direction and they both erupt in laughter.

Ellie enjoys their bantering. After all, meeting someone - anyone - whose humour is on the same wavelength as yours is a gift from the gods and should not be squandered. She often plays bits of their conversations in her head and still can't believe that she had them with Tom Hiddleston, the very man whose face she sees while scrolling through her tumblr dashboard. But, she also can’t ignore the bits of personal information that he lets slip, like the fact that he seems to have a girl back in London - probably the one from Wimbledon. He didn’t call her his girlfriend, though, just “a friend back in London” who doesn’t like it when he insists on trying new ‘hole in the wall’ restaurants that always seem to open till ridiculous hours.

The next time she runs into Tom is on the elevator, the day after her ex-boyfriend Kyle showed up to her work again and got a little physical, which resulted in Ellie taking action and Kyle kneeling on the ground with his hands on his nether regions. After the incident, Ellie was so furious she could barely speak. All that adrenaline made it hard to walk, so she sat on the curb and called Susan, who was panicking because she thought something had happened to the apartment, only to become livid when Ellie told her what had actually happened. In the end, Seth, Susan’s brother who was in town touring with his band, picked her up and took her home. Seth’s practically an older brother to Ellie and she wished he was around more often. He’s one of those buff, stoic, man-of-few-words type of guys who look like they could easily snap your neck, but in reality he’s a big softie who plays sappy jazz music on the sax and likes to cook. Ellie’s always the only one brave enough to volunteer for his experimental cooking, which Seth appreciated immensely.

The whole elevator ride up, Tom sticks to exchanging pleasantries and barely responds to any of Ellie’s slightly dirty jokes – a very un-Tom-like reaction, or at least the Tom she’s come to know. Ellie’s a little worried but decides not to pry - they'd never discussed their personal lives outright, and asking too many questions might cross the line she’d been walking so carefully.

Since then, she’s seen him a handful of times around the building, “seen” in the most literal sense. On the occasional morning when she happens to wake up before her alarm, she can almost spot a figure running along the docks if she squints, bringing back fond memories of the morning Tom moved in. Sometimes she’d go for a run too, half fearful, half hopeful that she’d run into him again. But in the end, none of the figures stretching by the lamppost turn out to be Tom.

It’s been almost two weeks since she saw him last and Ellie misses him, all of him - his face, his smile, his tendency to always get to a door before her, hold it open and hover close to her with his hand on the small of her back as they pass through the doorway. But most of all, she misses his company and their conversations. She likes to think of them as friends, proper friends, not just the overused, undervalued idea popularized by Facebook. This friendship being one-sided is a thought she scarcely dares to entertain.

Ellie pours her heart out to Susan on the way back from dropping off Seth at the airport, only to earn a punch in the arm and an annoyed look from her friend.

“Ow, Su! What was that for? You’re supposed to be supportive while I wallow in self-pity. It’s in the friendship manual.”

“Oh shut up, you big baby. You’ve been wallowing in self-pity for weeks now. My job is to snap you out of it. That’s also in the manual, by the way.”

Ellie pouts, even though she knows Susan is right.

“He obviously likes you enough, and god knows you like him – “

Ellie opens her mouth to protest but Susan beats her to the punch.

“– as a _friend_. Maybe he was having a crappy day at work or his lady friend, Jane or whoever, dumped him over text. If you’re really his friend, go do what friends do. Reach out and talk to him. Send him a care package or something.”

It’s not like this thought hasn’t occurred to Ellie. Deep down, she just really needed someone else to say it so she doesn’t feel like an idiot afterwards.

Taking her friend’s advice, Ellie spends the day putting together a gift basket, topping it off with a card made of construction paper depicting a row of teeth and something green stuck in the crevices. Looking over everything over one last time, Ellie places the card into the basket and sets it on the little table beside the penthouse doorway. She hopes Tom won’t be too weirded out by the card. And if he is, well then, this friendship is not meant to be.

* * *

Tom hasn’t had a proper vacation in years. Actually, he hasn’t had a vacation at all, never mind a proper one. Luke’s always saying he should take a break, even if it was in the same sentence as “you’re in your prime, you can't stop now!” And so, he doesn't. He really doesn't.

Those weeks between projects were usually busier than actually being on the job. So much preparation goes into every detail, because Tom’s never satisfied with settling for great when he knows he can be exceptional. This, of course, is a blessing and a curse. After the phenomenal success of Thor, the offers – good offers - started coming in left and right, which was unspeakably satisfying for him, professionally, but it also meant his personal life had to take a back seat. Romance hadn’t exactly suffered, although relationships were a whole other story. He’d been on a few dates since Susanna, some even with the same girl, but it’s difficult to meet people who could see past his recent fame far enough to have an interesting breakfast conversation after spending the night. And one peek at his schedule for the next 3 years was enough to make the most enamoured woman think twice about going steady.

Then he met Jane. Jane Arthy, the woman who literally stopped him in his tracks and made him re-think the possibility of having it all – wife, kids, family. It’s not that they were ready to settle down, not even close. The relationship, or whatever people wanted to call it, worked because she understood his commitments, his goals, and she was ok with taking a back seat to all of those. A friend had introduced them at a Marvel event where Tom was feeling especially homesick and she reminded him of London, which he missed terribly. They kept in touch when she went back to the UK, allowing Tom to vicariously visit home through their correspondences. When he got back, he found they got along quite well, really well in fact - they both liked the same books, ate Italian often, preferred minimalist furniture, and ran marathons in support of charities. Not to mention, she didn’t mind tennis. He’d always wanted to share Wimbledon with someone special, and bringing her that year was a dream come true.

For a while, everything felt perfect. Well…almost.

There was something lacking in their relationship, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he didn’t exactly have the time to figure it out. He knew she felt it too. Whatever it was, he thought, it could wait till after he finished filming, and every time the nagging feeling came back, he'd brush it to the back of his mind. Either way, they’d already booked a vacation together for after he wraps, so at least they'd finally get the chance to sit down and have a proper chat about it.

But before that, there was Crimson Peak.

He treated the move to Toronto as just another job. Another city, another trailer, another film set. Luke even came with him to see him settled, which was more than his job description called for. Tom was very grateful, because although people might complain that Luke's a shit publicist (Tom’s never felt that way), anyone would be so lucky to call him a friend. The lodging Luke found for him was quite decent, but frankly, Tom would have been ok with any place that wasn’t a hotel. He wanted to relish cleaning a flat he called his own - even if it was for a little while - and he was tired of having to split his socks - and then losing them - just so he’d have something in every drawer in his hotel room.

Prior to landing in Toronto, he’d packed warmly for the Canadian weather, planned ahead for jet lag, and went through his usual routine to prepare for a job. What he hadn’t prepared for was the pleasant surprise who lived his below feet.

One Miss Elliott Montgomery.

She didn’t seem like much at first, just a pleasant but none too memorable young woman who happened to have adorable bedhead and a predilection for fluffy things. Upon settling in that night, Tom had all but forgotten her face, until not six hours later when he realized just how much he’d misjudged her character. How he’d missed her wicked sense of humour, her infinitely entertaining imagination, and her endearing thoughtfulness, when all of it seems as plain as day to him now, was anyone’s guess.

Now, especially now, Tom continues to be amazed at how wrong he’d been. He doesn’t even try to contain the smile he’s been sporting for the past half hour as he glances over, for the third time, the hilarious card accompanying the basket of gifts from his new friend which currently sits on his night stand. 

Inside, the card reads:

_Hello Stranger,_

_Welcome to Canada, land of 6-month winters and nice neighbours. I understand you’ve been here for some time now, and I apologize unreservedly for not getting this housewarming gift to you sooner (two of our sled dogs were attacked by polar bears and a moose ran over the sled)._

_In this basket, you will find 5 items:_

_1) Lip balm (Sweet baby Jesus please put some on!)_

_2) Hand cream (Our winters don’t kid around, and objectively speaking, you have very lovely hands. Please take good care of them. Thanks)_

_3) $15 Tim Horton’s gift card (If you use it wisely, it’ll last you at least 2 weeks. Trust me)_

_4) Ice wine (It’s alcohol. What more do I need to say?)_

_5) Coupon redeemable for 1 ‘Monty’ (BYOB - > Bring Your Own Bagel)_

_We here at Friends Care (We Tell You If You Have Spinach In Your Teeth) hope you find this gift package to your liking. And if you have any questions or comments, please direct them to our representative in suite 2202, who can also be reached at 416-XXX-XXXX._

_OOO,_

_E. M._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lawd am I a terrible updater or what? 
> 
> Thank you SO much to everyone who is still following this story. Thank you for all your encouragement (silent ones too) and for not giving up on me. Or Ellie. I hardly plan these chapters, so quite frankly, I know as much about what's going to happen as you do. Ok maybe a tiny bit more. But only a tiny bit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains tiny spoiler from Only Lovers Left Alive.

Today’s shoot was at the sound stage again. It’s always difficult to tell the time of day when you’re in a huge warehouse with no windows, and no matter how many times Tom works on these sets, he never seems to get any better at telling how much time has passed. Sometimes he’d walk out the doors and find it’s still bright outside. Other times, it’d be pitch black, as if all the light in the world suddenly vanished and the only road left stretched into an endless abyss. Today is the latter. The only sign telling him he’s now on the outside of that tin box he’s been cooped up in for the past 16 hours is the slight chill creeping in between his scarves. That’s right. Scarves, in the plural. One is a ratty old thing he’s had since Eton, which was tucked away inside his coat, and the other – the one on display – was a Christmas present from Jane.

He almost wonders how she’s doing, how London is doing. Sure, Toronto is wonderful, just like New York and Detroit and Cologne, but it isn’t home. Right now he wants to believe that he misses Jane, not London, though it’s getting harder and harder these days to separate her from the city itself. It’s unusual that she hasn’t called or texted this week. Maybe she’s just giving him space.

Tom hears a buzzing in his pocket.  _That’s strange_ , he thinks looking down at the glowing screen, his phone doesn’t recognize the number. No one from work would be calling this late, or early, rather, and Gui gave everyone the weekend off so they’ve long fled the set. He hesitates a little, but decides to answer it, and the voice of the other end is just the pick-me-up he needs.

“ _Oi_ mate! _Took you long enough. A minute longer and I’d have hung up on ya!_ ” a rich Scottish baritone bellows from the receiver. Tom stops mid-stride and bursts out laughing, relieved to hear a voice he knows all too well.

“What can I say, James, I’m a busy man,” Tom teases. “Is this your way of letting me know you have a new number?”

“ _No, well ya, sort of,_ ” the voice answers, half shouting over the loud music coming from the background. “ _The one back home’s still the same. I got this one for the new business in Toronto. Besides, I ain’t paying transatlantic fees just to ask if you want to go for a pint!”_ Tom chuckles at his friend’s apparent frugal ways, even though they both know it’s far from the truth, especially considering that James has a stake in half of the most successful restaurants in London and is bordering on notorious for his exorbitant lifestyle. It's late, but Tom could never pass up a chance to see James, and not just because it’d be a hoot to finally catch up with one of his oldest friends. Stranded in a foreign city on this frigid night thousands of miles from home, seeing a familiar face is the next best thing to a piping hot cup of tea. 

“Text me the location and I’ll see you in 20min,” he replies, feeling much more like his usual self already.

Tom arrives at the pub a few minutes after 1:30am. Other than a smattering of patrons around the bar, the place is mostly empty. James is chatting away with the barkeep but drops the conversation immediately at the sight of Tom. A huge smile stretches across his handsome features as strides towards the door, covering the distance in just three or four steps.  

“How the bloody hell are ya, you bastard?!” James exclaims, engulfing Tom in a bear hug that’s returned with equal enthusiasm. From that moment on, it’s as if Tom is transported back to his early days at Eton, when the “posh” boys made his life miserable and it was just him and James against the world. Oh the kinds of trouble they’d get into in those teenage years! James had a natural charm and girls flocked to him like moths to a flame, so being at an all-boys school frustrated him to no end. Tom was less successful with the ladies, but not for a lack of trying, which served as a source of frustration all on its own. Their predicament resulted in a lot of pent up energy that was channelled into “activities unbecoming of the students at Eton College”, as one professor put it during a stern talking to after an unsuccessful stint of late night exploits - unsuccessful in not getting caught, that is. But all in all, it was just a bit of fun, really, for two boys from less than wealthy families who held a deep conviction that life has much more to offer than fancy shoes and exotic Christmas holidays. Those carefree days marked the start of Tom’s lifelong enjoyment of all things mischievous.

With a wave of his hand, James signals the barkeep for two pints of Guinness, and within a minute or two, they were reminiscing about old times, chuckling at their boyhood misadventures. The topic of the evening seems to revolve around friends, something they both have in healthy abundance, but perhaps less accessible for Tom these days with his busy schedule. Inevitably, the conversation turns from friends to girlfriends and Tom’s shoulders tense. His hand pauses ever so slightly as he brings the glass to his lips, betraying the unease in his anticipation of a harmless enough question. 

“So, you got anyone checkin' up on you these days? Last I remember you were with that brunette from Marvel was it?” James’s tone sounds casual, but Tom can’t tell if his friend wants a serious answer. All these years and he still wonders sometimes why James snubs his nose at the acting profession when he himself is so good at it.

“Jane, you mean?” Tom replies in an off-handed manner.

“Right, Jane. You two still…?”

“More or less.”

Tom feels like he should say more, but what more is there? Things seem to be neither here nor there with Jane, so he just chews his lip and fiddles silently with the half-finished pint of Guinness sitting in front on him.

“Haven’t I told ya, you’ve got the most  _terrible_ poker face I’ve ever seen,” James drawls, taking a sip of his beer and waits for Tom to elaborate. But he doesn’t.

“Mate,” James finally sighs, “You always do this to yourself, doing the all right things for all the wrong reasons. And for what? I swear to God, sometimes I just wanna knock some sense into that pretty noggin of yours,” he motions with his arms in a headlock. If his friend didn't know him as well as he does, Tom might have been put off by such a presumptuous comment. But this is James – Jaime – the person who put up with Tom’s moods during the months after his parents's divorce, the person who always wins when they play bridge because he knows all of Tom’s tells, the person who has seen him do the all right things for all the wrong reasons too many times to count. And it’s not like he’s wrong this time either. But, there’s no sense in dwelling on unpleasantness that's out of your control, at least for now.

“I’m surprised you even know what a ‘relationship’ is, with all the tears you’ve caused women over the years,” Tom says evenly, trying his best to put on a stern face and failing.

“Of course I know what they are, you pretentious twat,” James retorts, then, softly he adds, “That’s why I avoid them at all cost,” causing immature snickering from both sides of the table.

With the somber spell broken, they return to lighter topics, like Tom’s filming for Crimson Peak and James’s new restaurant ventures in Toronto. Amid the lively discussion about fine dining, Tom casually brings up Ellie’s marvelous creation, the ‘Monty’ bagel stuffed with cream cheese and potato chips. Naturally, the mention of a friendly neighbour, and a female one at that, has James greatly intrigued. But even without prodding, Tom finds himself volunteering all sorts of anecdotes about his new friend, including the hilariously thoughtful gift basket he received a few days prior.

“You’d like her,” he says, as a matter of fact.

“Ya?”

“Ya. She’d see right through your bollocks.”

James simply grins. “So when do I meet this delightful creature?”  

Tom chuckles, shaking his head. “ _That’s_  not going to happen.” Knowing James and his history with women, Tom can't help but feel a little protective of Ellie. 

“Aw c'mon!” James protests. “Tell you what, invite her to my new restaurant opening next week, and, uh, who knows? Maybe she’ll find me all on her own…!”

Amused at his friend’s efforts but still not willing to give in, Tom just shakes his head some more. James, stubborn as always, simply continues his plea.

“Honestly Tom! You can’t just go on and on about this angel, who I’m fairly certain is my  _soulmate_ , and lock her up in your high and mighty tower all to yourself!”  

“She’s not one of your flings, Jaime.”

“I  _know_ that." 

“The last thing she needs is you breaking her heart.” 

“Ok, that’s not fair. You don’t know that. You don’t know  _she’s_  the one who'll end up with a broken heart,” James pouts, “I was devastated when Lauren left.  _Devastated._ ”

“Ya," Tom retorts, "until you met Chelsie, or was it Chloe, two weeks later?” Tom doesn't even have to look at his friend to know he's trying to suppress a sheepish grin - the one that's gotten him out of all kinds of trouble with women. 

“Besides, she has a boyfriend.”

James cocks an eyebrow. “Mmmhmm says you.”

“No seriously,” Tom replies defensively, “he looks like Thor except without t-the, you know the – ” he accidentally makes an obscene gesture as he tries to find the right word. “– Hammer.”

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, or maybe because it’s been too long since these boyhood friends have enjoyed each other’s juvenile company. Either way, they find the crass humour especially funny and both men seemingly morph back into their teenage selves, doubling over in snorts of laughter.

“Alright, alright Tommy,” James puts up a hand after he finally catches his breath, “you don’t have to make stuff up just to save your damsel from me.”

“I’m not joking. He’s got the long hair and everything. Would I make that up? I saw him bring her home the other day,” Tom pauses, then adds soberly, “And she's not a damsel.”

Thankfully, James decides he’s had enough fun at Tom’s expense for one night and changes the subject.  

The next morning, Tom wakes up with the worst hangover in recent memory. It doesn't help that the noon sun is doing a damn fine job of shining just a sliver of light directly through his blinds and onto his face – his puffy-eyed, stubble-covered, and very hungover face. Determined to not let one night of mistakenly believing he was still in his twenties ruin the entire Saturday, Tom reluctantly crawls out from under the covers and drags himself into the kitchen to scavenge ingredients for a hangover smoothie.

In between sips of the watery pink fluid, Tom starts to recall bits and pieces of his early morning exploits, including an ill-advised race on the docks and James hurling into Lake Ontario afterwards. He also vaguely remembers James trying to persuade him to send drunk texts to people in his contacts, including that delightful downstairs neighbour of his.

Oh god...did he...?

Tom does a frantic dance in search of his phone. To his relief scrolling through his messages, he confirms that no drunk texts were sent, especially not to Ellie. In fact, he notes, Ellie's number isn't even in his phone yet. He goes back into the bedroom and retrieves her card from on top of the gift basket, scanning through the note he stops at the last line:

_We here at Friends Care (We Tell You If You Have Spinach In Your Teeth) hope you find this gift package to your liking. And if you have any questions or comments, please direct them to our representative in suite 2202, who can also be reached at 416-XXX-XXXX._

_OOO,_

_E. M._

Maybe, it's about time he contacted their representative.  

 

* * *

 

On most Saturday afternoons, especially when the weather outside is gloomy, or even better, pouring rain, Ellie can be found squished into the tiny space between her bed and the large bay window facing the lake, usually watching a movie or reading a book, or taking a nap from such strenuous activities. This Saturday was no different, although the weather’s a lot nicer than she would have liked – too perfect to not feel guilty about being unproductive. Ellie, once again conked out in her nook, face half buried in a Totoro plushie, is startled awake by her phone mercilessly blasting 'Stayin' Alive' from the other side of the bed. She reflexively scrambles over to the night stand and answers without checking the caller ID, not that her phone would have recognized this number anyway. 

"Hello?" she croaks. 

" _Hello_ ," echoes the caller, " _I'm looking for the representative, Elliott Montgomery, from Friends Care, We...um..we..._ ” - there’s a pause and some paper rustling in the background - “ _We tell you if you have spinach in your teeth. Am I correct in assuming I have the right number?_ ”

Oh yes, this is definitely the right number. Yes sir.

Still just waking up, it takes Ellie a few seconds longer to register that this isn't a prank call or a misdialed number, but is in fact Tom Hiddleston on the other end of the line, back to being his humourous self.

“Uh um…yes, yes this is Elliott,” she smiles, “but you can call me Ellie.”

“ _Well, Ellie, I’d like to discuss some concerns I have about a gift package I received last week from your organization. Are you at all available…?_ ”

“Uhh yes, I’d lov– yes, of course. Please go ahead, I’m happy to hear your concerns.”

“ _Actually, I was hoping we could discuss this in person, say, over lunch tomorrow?_ ”

If Ellie wasn't awake by now, that definitely did the trick. She sits up slowly and pinches her arm just to make sure. Yep, she’s awake. But just because Tom Hiddleston himself comes calling doesn't mean she should drop everything and fall at his feet. She has plans to go to St. Lawrence Market tomorrow with Susan and she’s not about to renege on her friend for a boy, even if he is very very handsome, and funny, and British…

“Lunch, yes, tomorrow, right umm…let me check my schedule,” she hears herself say, “I have to run a few errands tomorrow morning, so we could do a late lunch maybe around one o’clock, if that works for you?  _Sir_?” She emphasizes the word 'sir' in mock politeness.

Hearing the ‘ehehehe’ coming from the other end convinces her shoulders to relax. She hadn't realized she was so tense. 

“ _Of course,_ darling _,_ ” Tom teases in return, “ _one o’clock sounds perfect._ ”

The call ends without either of them dropping the act, even though Ellie catches herself silently giggling several times. Then, naturally, she makes absolutely sure he’s hung up before jumping onto the bed and doing a very loud celebratory dance.

 

* * *

 

 "You've got good news" is the first thing Susan says when she spots Ellie waiting by the docks the next morning. 

"I have noooo idea what you're talking about," Ellie hums, knowing perfectly well that with the corners of her mouth tugging and her cheek muscles straining against the chill, she just might be fighting the biggest, most ridiculous grin of her natural life. But of course, it doesn't take long at all for her to spill everything to Susan, who, predictably, reacts like any girl-friend would. 

"OH. MY. GOD." Susan's surprised outburst echoes across the icy pavement, startling an elderly couple strolling ahead of them. 

"Oh. my. god." she exclaims again this time in a whisper, but no less surprised or excited. "Is this…is this, like…a date?"

Ellie makes a show of rolling her eyes. "No, of course not. It's just lunch." There’s no point in pretending it isn’t.

"Are you sure? Becaus- "

"It's not, Su, trust me," Ellie insists, "I think he just wants to thank me for the gift basket."

Ellie isn't just saying this to convince her friend, she knows this is just Tom's way of repaying her friendly gesture. Besides, he's a gentleman, if he had even the remotest of romantic intentions, she'd probably see them coming a mile away. All things considered, she's still quite happy to just have lunch with a man whose company she adores. 

At St. Lawrence Market that morning, Ellie and Susan stop at each food stall eagerly taste testing every sample they’re offered. After filling up their stomachs, they head over to the flea market across the street to walk off their meal. Years ago, Ellie's dad used to take her to garage sales and flea markets all the time before he got remarried. "Don't be afraid to play up your charms!" he always said. "Especially if you're a girl. People love to give a girl what she wants." Not quite the feminist, her father, but definitely a pragmatist who got things done. It’s good she remembered her father’s advice just then, because Ellie spots an expensive-looking canvas from across the aisle and falls in love immediately. 

The painting in question is one of those optical illusions where looking at it from far away you’d see one thing, and then stepping closer, you realize they're made up of little paintings that are something else entirely. This particular one is unusually large, more than half her height and just as wide, depicting birds and bees and all of nature’s beauty. But taking a step back, the Gestalt is a human skull straddled by a wreath of flowers. It is certainly sight to behold. “Too morbid for a nice young girl like you” were the seller’s words when Ellie inquired after the price. But the piece spoke true to her in a way she couldn't articulate with words, and sometimes that gut feeling is all you really need.

The entire way home is a struggle. Although it's a remarkably wonderful day by Toronto winter standards, the occasional gusts of icy wind threaten to tear Ellie’s beloved flea market find from her fingers. Breezing through the lobby, she's so preoccupied with figuring out a way to get the enormous artwork onto her wall that she almost decks the two gentlemen in the elevator as she tries to maneuver her way inside.

“Good God!” exclaims a disembodied voice beyond the canvas. “Not the face!”

Ellie immediately apologizes and tries to back out of the elevator, which only makes matters worse.

“It’s all right," assures a second gentler voice with a distinct British accent, "just come in, there’s plenty of space. We can stand at the back,” 

“Ok. Are you sure?” She still can’t see who the voices belong to but she’s fairly certain one of them is Tom. Of course, of all the people in this world who have to witness her most awkward moments, this man must have drawn the short straw. 

“Yes, of course. Just watch your elbow there. Now a little to the left, that’s it.”

As the doors closed, a slender finger reaches under her arm and presses her floor. Yep, it's definitely him.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“You’re welcome, Ellie”

My my, what pleasant conversation. 

“Hi Ellie,” says the first voice through an audible smile, “I’m James.” With the painting obstructing her view and oblivious to anyone and anything beyond the canvas, Ellie misses the smug look of boyish excitement on James's face as he slowly turns his head towards Tom, who's busy staring at the ground with an amused expression of utter defeat. 

“Hi James. Sorry about your face," Ellie offers, hoping she didn't do any real damage. 

“Not my face, dear. His face," James nods toward Tom. "Pretty boy’s gotta work tomorrow. My face is fine, it’s superb, in fact, and ruggedly handsome.”

“Says only his mum,” Tom quips.

Ellie can practically see the smirks on their faces. Not one to let slip such a golden opportunity, she adds, "I'll be the judge of that," eliciting a good chortle from behind the canvas. 

"Ooo you really meant it, mate," Ellie hears James whisper. "I like her already." 

Before she has time to feel flattered that Tom's mentioned her to his friend, the elevator arrives at her floor. The two gentlemen, being gentlemen, not only help her maneuver through the hallway but also offer their services to hang up the painting. Ellie wanted to decline at first - her mum would be appalled if she accepts help before trying to do it on her own. Unfortunately, her mum’s not here to assess the situation, so really, she can't judge, not when Tom Hiddleston and his tall, dark, and almost equally as handsome companion are the ones offering.

With Tom on one side and his friend on the other, Ellie directs them to adjust the painting back and forth until it hangs just right. She may have had them stand just a tad longer than necessary. And who can blame her? There's something very erotic about a piece of art being handled by two masterpieces in their own right, and all in her living room no less! After one final tweak, they all step back to take in the morbidly beautiful juxtaposition that now occupies an entire wall. Ellie glances over at Tom, who returns her gaze with a lazy smile.  

A moment later, Tom’s phone rings. He excuses himself and steps into the kitchen, leaving James and Ellie in the living room by themselves. It’s not exactly an awkward silence he’s left them with, the kind you might expect to find hanging between two complete strangers at a birthday party who happen to step up to the food table at the same time. No, this is more like the quiet space between two people who have stopped in an art gallery to admire the same painting (which is suitably accurate in this case), each anticipating that the other might make a casual remark about the irony of the title or how accurately the artist has captured her subject, but also just enjoying the silence when neither of them speak up at all.

“How much does a polar bear weigh?”

Well, so much for casual remarks. The odd question catches Ellie off-guard. It takes a few slow blinks for her to realizes she actually knows the answer. With an eyebrow raise and a semi-serious expression, she answers, “Enough to break the ice, what’s up I’m Ellie.” The corners of her lips curl into a cheeky smile and she extends her hand towards him.

Now it’s James’s turn to be caught off-guard. It’s such a cheesy pickup line and he hadn’t expected it to work, much less be on the receiving end of the punchline. A deep, rumbling laugh erupts from the back of his throat and he puts a hand to his chest while involuntarily leaning backwards in the way people do when they've been thoroughly impressed. It’s true what Tom said about this girl. She sees right through his bollocks.

As much as it seemed like Ellie could hold her own against James’s Casanova-like charisma, she doesn't quite realize the full force of his Scottish charm until it's too late. James may be the same height as Tom, which is plenty tall, but he's also more muscular, and the way he’s standing with one arm leaning against the wall and the other hand casually caught on the angle of his hips certainly isn’t helping Ellie stay focused on what’s coming out of his mouth. In the time it took Tom to rejoin them in the living room, Ellie somehow found herself accepting a party invitation to James’s restaurant opening the following weekend. It's almost suspicious how pleased he looked when she said yes, and the surprised look on Tom’s face when James told him the news only made her more nervous. But before she has time to ask any questions, James announces wistfully that he has to depart to attend to "more adult-ish shenanigans". Ellie watches as the handsome semi-stranger disappears through the doorway, but not before turning around to give her a wink and a reminder to come to the party. Tom just gives him a thin smile. She swears he looks a little relieved now that James is gone, although she can’t imagine why.

“Lunch?” he turns to her after the door closes, this time with a smile that reaches his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 Ellie decides to take Tom to 'The Senator', Toronto's oldest restaurant. It's not exactly the kind of hundred-year old establishments one finds in the heart of London, but this 1940's-styled diner with jazz-inspired decor can hold its own. There's even a fully functional manual cash register at the check-out desk. Plus, if the usual girl is working today, they might even get free dessert! She always cuts an extra-large slice of New York cheesecake just for Ellie.

"I have a small request," Ellie says once they settle into their booth, "it's tiny, so tiny. Minuscule even."

Tom gives her a sideways glance. "Out with it, Montgomery. Frankly, I'm disappointed you even think I'd say anything other than 'yes'."

It really is a small request, but the reason behind it makes it even better. Ellie explains, back in September she went to see 'Only Lovers Left Alive' at TIFF and was too afraid to raise her hand when they called on audience members for questions. The regret has been gnawing at her ever since, especially because Rae, the new friend she made that night, was a constant reminder of her failure. Ellie vowed to seize the next chance she got, and if there was ever a time for redemption, this would be it. 

"So I just answer your questions as if this were an interview?" Tom wants to make sure. It’s not too out there, as far as requests go, although it’s definitely a new one.

"Yep, except it's an audience interview, so you have to call on audience members (a.k.a. me) for each question. Does that make sense?"

Tom takes a moment to sort it out in his head then nods. They hold spoons up to their lips as microphones and the interview begins. Tom looks over Ellie's shoulder, pretending to scan the crowd before pointing to her.

"Yes, you, the cute girl in the purple glasses." 

Ellie instantly feels her cheeks flush. "S-so my question is for Tom. Tom, we all know you're a big fan of Shakespeare, but this movie purports that Shakespeare was a thief who appropriated Christopher Marlowe's work as his own. So I guess what I want to know is: does knowing more about the author or authorship of a piece of work change your opinion of the work itself?" 

"Wow, that's such a thoughtful question." Tom puts a finger to his lips and stares at a spot on the table pensively for almost a minute before giving his answer.  _He's actually taking this seriously_ , Ellie thought.  _It's adorable_. 

They go back and forth with this game of interview until their food arrives, giving Ellie a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to ask all the things she's ever wanted to know about him. They’re all harmless questions, of course, nothing too personal or obscene (you wouldn't ask Tom if prefers boxers or briefs in front of a public audience, not that it even needs to be asked). Before long, their plates are cleared and replaced by two enormous portions of cheesecake. "New York, on the house!" the waiter who brought them over announces happily. The confused look on Ellie's face prompts him to quickly explain, "Don't worry, Tess's instructions." He winks at Tom and saunters back to the kitchen. Across the table, Tom gives her an amused look, waiting for an explanation, but Ellie just waves it off. "It's a long story". 

"Speaking of long stories," she continues, trying to segue smoothly into a new topic, "you and James, you look like you go way back.” 

"James and I went to school together, actually.”

"Oh really? Cambridge?"

"Eton."

"Wow, so way  _way_ back, like from prehistoric times." Thankfully age is not a sensitive topic with Tom, and Ellie's comment elicits a string of good-natured 'ehehehe's'. She absentmindedly muses that James reminds her of a more refined Gerard Butler with the subdued womanizing charm of Connery's Bond - basically the kind of man who can make you swoon left and right, but won't stay for breakfast the morning after. Tom's eyebrows rise sky high and he almost chokes on his cheesecake. 

"That," -cough- "that is probably the kindest, most accurate description I’ve heard so far,” he manages between sputters of laughter, "But I wouldn't repeat that to him, he'd take it as a compliment and let it get to his head." Ellie reminds Tom she'd never have the occasion to repeat it to James, not unless she actually goes to his party next week, which she won't. 

Tom almost looks relieved for a moment, although just as quickly, the corners of his mouth sag ever so slightly and his blue eyes soften. Don't mind James, Tom advises, he may be a womanizer but he's harmless. Ellie, however, is not so easily convinced. 

"It's not that. I’m just not a fan of loud music and sweaty strangers rubbing up against me," she explains, shuddering at the thought of the few occasions when she let Susan persuade her into attending performances at Guverment, a well-known nightclub in Toronto. Never again. "Just once, I'd like to go to a swanky jazz cocktail soiree with people I know and like. Is that too much to ask?" 

“Funny you should say that,” Tom pauses, as if debating whether or not to continue, “the restaurant opening is actually a cocktail party with a live jazz band.” Ellie opens her mouth but closes it again when she realizes she has no good come back. So instead she just squints at Tom through narrowed eyes, trying to decide if it’s worth arguing at all.

"And,” he continues, “you'll know me, and I happen to know for a fact that you also you like me, 'as a person'." Tom enunciates those last words very carefully. Ellie groans audibly as she tilts her head back onto the headrest behind her. Leave it to Tom Hiddleston to remember something embarrassing she said the first day they met. "Ok, alright, Hiddleston, let's stop dwelling on my  _one_  slip-of-the-tongue." That man and his memory, it's almost dangerous. 

"But honestly, I'd love for you could come. A familiar face in the crowd would be nice." Although the words leaving his mouth are sincere, Tom is baffled by his attempt to convince Ellie to go to this party when he was opposed to the idea just the day before. What’s stranger is that he seems to be unconsciously holding his breath as he waits for her to respond.

As for Ellie, how can she say no to that voice, that face, when millions upon millions of people across the world have tried and gladly failed? Saying 'yes' is easy, but she needs to do it for the right reasons. So without making any promises, she agrees to think about it. 

One of the greatest tragedies in life is that the best conversations never last long enough, and Ellie’s forever running out of time when she’s with Tom. Their late lunch continues later into the afternoon, almost to dinner time. She sees Tom glance at his watch regretfully and decides not to prolong the inevitable. “Let's head back. It'll be dark soon." 

When the bill comes, Ellie insists that it's her duty as the surrogate host of Toronto to treat the guest, an argument to which Tom concedes only after she agrees he can treat her next time. Her heart quickens a little thinking about the remote possibility of a "next time". Seeing as they have a bit of time before Tom has to be off to bed in order to get up for a 3am shoot, he suggests they take the scenic route back to the waterfront, which means a good 50min walk. Ellie has no complaints; that's 50 more minutes she gets to spend to him. 

All along the way whenever they passed a notable landmark or a spot that reminded Ellie of a funny story, she'd launch into a long-winded and animated explanation that goes in a million directions, causing her to forget why she started to tell it in the first place. Tom, for his part, is no help at all. He's usually too enthralled in the tale or too busy adding to her story to remember either. So after laughing and talking and laughing some more, they arrive at the condo in time with the dying glow of dusk. A comfortable silence pervades the space around them as the floor numbers above the elevator light up, counting down to the end of a perfect Sunday. It really was a perfect Sunday, the kind of day you reminisce about when you're old and grey and wondering how it's possible that you've been so lucky. If this was it, the very height of bliss, Ellie wouldn't mind it one bit. 

The elevator doors ping open at Ellie's floor and they exchange customary farewell hugs before she steps off. 

"See you Saturday evening?" Tom asks as the doors begin to close, his voice deeper and slightly hoarse from laughter.

Ellie gazes back at him and smiles contently.

"Perhaps," she replies, half teasing, half sincere, and makes her way back to her apartment with a spring in her step. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super late, I know :P  
> For this chapter I was trying out this new method called "editing your work". I think it's worked out rather well. 
> 
> Next update won't take as long. I've got the whole story mapped out and I promise I won't abandon it before it's finished! Thank you for all your support! I really really really appreciate it. 
> 
> OOO,
> 
> L.Q.


	6. This is the end...? (not new chapter)

Hi guys. Sorry, this isn't a new chapter.

I know haven't updated this fic in forever (and even when I did it was excruuuuciatingly slow). The thing is, I don't feel the same way about Tom anymore... I haven't felt that way for a while and it's really difficult to write without a muse :( I still love him very much, but it's more of an "ah I'm glad he's doing so well. I'll always love and care about him/his career but I don't get all hot and bothered anymore." It's an odd time to fall out of love with him, what with his recent popularity and all. Is this how every pre-fame girlfriend of every successful actor feels? Haha

Anyway, I want to thank all the readers who gave my fic a chance, who pushed through the awful bits and overlooked my consistently inconsistent grammar. I want to thank the wonderful people I've met through this little side project of mine, you guys kept me going for way longer than I intended. I've stowed away your words of encouragement for the next rainy day when a spark of inspiration comes my way. 

I don't want to say this is the end for Ellie and Tom, because it isn't, not in their AU anyway. I actually have the rest of the story planned out. If anyone would like to hear it, I could tell you how it ends so we can all have some closure. If not, you're welcome to imagine away. I know you'll do their story justice. 

 

Till next time, 

xxxL


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